


The Holly and the Ivy

by Smallswritesstuff



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: False Identity, Fluff and Angst, Hallmark Movie Aesthetics, I dont know what the hell this is either, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smallswritesstuff/pseuds/Smallswritesstuff
Summary: Within the Sparrow Timeline, Klaus lands in Dallas on Christmas Eve, 1968. He meets a butterfly-effected Dave Katz and pulls out an old pseudonym.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 33
Kudos: 98





	The Holly and the Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> 95% of this concept just punched me square in the ass while I was driving home from work one day so here we are ig.
> 
> SLIGHT CANON DIVERGENCE. By that I mean please just imagine we didn’t see Dave’s last appearance on the bus in 2x10.
> 
> also 
> 
> Me in most of my headcanons: Klaus left such a personal impact on Baby Dave that he never forgot his face for fifty years UWU
> 
> Me here: ok yeah Klaus left a personal impact on Baby Dave but there is NO way my dumb ass can recognize a face even a week after I see a person for a series of spontaneous five minute increments so--

They’d brought a backup suitcase to 2019. For emergencies.

Five’s mistake was leaving it unattended.

The Sparrow Academy had unceremoniously kicked the Umbrellas to the streets. A few hours later, the siblings had gotten a change of clothes and a pair of motel rooms for the night, exhausting almost all of the cash they had on hand.

Klaus sits on a faded armchair in the corner, head weighing heavy in his hands, as his brothers and sisters bustle about and bicker over each other.

”If you hadn’t said that shit to Dad—”

“And why is this all on _my_ dime, huh?”

“—was hogging the frickin’ shower—!”

Klaus fades into the background. Which is, oddly, a relief. He used to be _so_ diminished by this family in his first 2019, though he tried not to let it bother him too much. But now, after everything the last three years have put him through - especially the last three days - Klaus wants nothing more than to disappear.

“— and then guy at the desk said —“

“We have to get back to the Academy so we can—“

“Shut up! Just shut up!” 

There’s just so much noise. The timeline is screwed, their own father has kicked them to the curb, Ray and Sissy have been lost, Ben is gone forever, Dave is almost certainly dead again, and it’s just so goddamn loud. Klaus feels himself on the verge of snapping.

It’s then that he realizes the scale of disappearing act he’s able to perform.

He abruptly gets up and makes a break for the bathroom door, squeezing past Luther and Five with a mumbled “Pardon”. They hardly acknowledge it, locked in their own manic debate.

”Klaus?” 

He glances back and sees Vanya, looking concerned from her seat on the bed. “You alright?”

Klaus appreciates it a lot, deep down. But he pushes on. “Bee’s knees, V,” he replies, followed by a cringe at the lameness of the phrase. He turns the knob on the bathroom door and darts inside before she can ask any follow-ups.

He locks the door behind him and tears open the shower curtain. He eyes the stack of two briefcases in the bathtub. The argument was made that this was the easiest hiding spot, founded on the level of grime in the basin itself, which implied little to no effort from housekeeping to clean it. _God_ , this place is gross. 

He picks one of the cases up. It’s scuffed up as all hell, but still perfectly functional. He sits on the edge of the tub and fiddles with the number dial.

He’s done this before, albeit a while ago. It’s a simple enough mechanism. He’ll be gone and back in a jiff. Or not. He hasn’t thought it entirely through yet.

After all that’s happened, he just wants to try and help the one person he can still save. If Dave is still going onto that hill without him, maybe he has one more shot to intervene.

Two-two-one-six-eight.

Two-two-one-six-eight.

Two-two-one-six-eight.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door.

No. Nope. No way they’re gonna hold him back from this again. 

Klaus’s shaking hands hurriedly click the last digits into place. The numbers are a little hard to read from the damage, but that looks right. Was there another step?

Another knock. And Diego’s voice.

“Hey, buddy, you good?”

Screw it all. 

Klaus clicks the briefcase open and gets consumed in the bright blue glow. 

...

...

...

He falls flat on his back in an alley, splashing into a pile of grayish, melting snow. He groans in pain as he sits up, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. 

When he opens them, he sees a far-too-familiar street. He recognizes the theater, the storefronts, the cars rolling past...

He’s back in the heart of Dallas, on a frigid afternoon. But the lamp posts are wrapped in thick green garland. Wreaths adorn each door. There’s a large decorative menorah in one window.

Klaus hugs his briefcase and takes a closer look at the numbers on the lock. Not only did he mistake a one for a four, but he apparently skipped over an entire digit as well.

One-two-two-four-six-eight.

_Crap._

And how the hell he’s in Dallas again, he has no idea. There must’ve been a way to input the location, but he couldn’t think of it.

The last thing he needs is to be spotted by another conspiracy freak like Elliot. (May he rest in peace. Or something. Klaus never really got to know him.) He scrambles to his feet and hurries to the mouth of the alley, scanning the bystanders. No one really seems to have noticed him appearing. But he has to find somewhere more hidden to fix the destination and zap out to Vietnam.

He slips out of the alley and starts down the street. He did _not_ expect to ever come back here. And it’s kind of creepy, seeing the same town a mere five years later. It’s _almost_ the same, but the people here have experienced so much in that time. The nation has mourned a president. Music has changed. Civil rights and anti-war movements have grown louder. Culture has shifted. 

He recognizes the convenience store he’s passing. They got a new door. 

He winces. That’s the convenience store that was right across from…

“See you, Rosie! Merry Christmas!”

Klaus has _got_ to be hallucinating that voice. But he turns sharply to look across the street anyway. 

He spies two people in front of the hardware store. One is the woman Klaus assumes to be Rosie, all bundled up in wool, walking away. The other is a man in a red scarf, holding open the door. 

Klaus isn’t sure he’s not looking at a ghost, until he hears...

“Bye, Dave!” Rosie calls back.

When the man slides back behind the door and flips the sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED, Klaus finally gets a look at his face. 

It’s Dave. Again. Squarer jaw, longer hair, stronger build, looking just like he did in Vietnam. Just… a little softer. But how? 

He disappears into the store, getting things together, probably locking up for the day. 

Klaus heard Dave tell him he enlisted. He heard him deny everything Klaus tried to tell him. What the hell is he still doing here? Did something go wrong? Was he discharged? Injured? Is he okay?

Klaus has to talk to him. He’s _right there._ And it can’t do much harm now, can it? 

A full five years later, Klaus doubts Dave will recognize him. Great. Round three at a first impression.

He pulls over to lean against the wall and assess his own clothing. He blends in fine. Though he now has a proper shirt on underneath, he’s glad he’s kept on his coat from the farm incident. He digs into his pocket and lets out a breath of relief when he finds his matching fingerless gloves. He yanks them on to cover up HELLO and GOOD BYE. 

Then his hand jumps to his neck. The dog tags. He can’t be seen with that either. He tugs them off and considers his pockets. But if he takes off the jacket, or if it’s windy, or if he passes through a metal detector…

He realizes he’s acting panicked, but he can’t afford to lose them, and he doesn’t want to freak Dave out with them, and _shit shit shit shit Dave’s walking out of the store_ , and suddenly Klaus clicks the briefcase open a crack and slips the tags inside. 

A tiny flash of blue erupts from the case, and it snaps shut again. Klaus is sure he’ll be able to track them down later. 

He sucks in a breath of bravery and crosses the street. 

And there’s David Katz, actual literal David Katz, locking the glass front door of the shop. Alive. Safe. 

He hears Klaus approaching and looks up. His gaze hits Klaus like a bolt of lightning.

“Oh, hey,” he says. “Sorry, man, closing up early tonight.” 

“Really?” Klaus asks, feigning chill. His voice sounds higher than he would like it to. “I just came for one thing. It’ll only take a sec.”

Dave shakes his head and turns his attention back to the key. “Manager’s rules. It’s a holiday, you know.”

Klaus knows. He stammers. “Oh. Oh. Yeah. Right. Sorry about that.”

“No worries.” He finishes with the lock and drops the key into his pocket. “What did you need?”

 _Anything but paint,_ Klaus screams at himself. _Think of absolutely anything but paint._

“Oh, just one of those…”

Klaus glances into the store window and picks the third label his eyes land on.

“...Zinc-plated corner braces.” 

“Easy,” Dave says. “They should have ‘em at Robbie’s.” He points generally down the street. “They’ll be open ‘til nine, I think.”

“Great,” Klaus says in a tiny voice. 

And scene. Curtain. Fin. He’s shaky and stuttering in front of the oblivious love of his life as he turns him away from his hardware store. He had no plan. He has no plan. He’s not going to have a plan. Dave lived past February of 1968, and he’s doing fine, and that’s all that Klaus wanted in the first place. Time to jump back into the time tunnel before he screws anything else up. 

“You know how to get there?” Dave asks. 

_Unless...?_

“No,” Klaus says, truthfully. “Not really.”

“I’ll take you, if you want,” Dave offers. “I got nowhere to be.” 

“Oh.” 

Klaus is quiet for a little too long. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

But how much time would that give him? Five minutes? Ten? And on second thought, exactly how long could he keep up a semi-false identity?

“I know,” Dave says, misinterpreting. “No plans at all. Hanukkah ended yesterday. We blew through it kinda early this year.” 

Klaus laughs a bit, though he’s not sure he’s supposed to. “You _did!_ You did. Okay.” He clears his throat. “Sure, if you could show me to the place, ah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Dave squints at him. “Sorry... you seem familiar. Have we met?”

“Don’t think so.” Klaus briefly glances down, and his eyes catch on his own briefcase. “I’m here on business.”

“Huh,” Dave replies simply. But he soon moves past it and sticks a hand out. “I’m Dave.”

Klaus freezes up. The name would certainly jog his memory. 

_C'mon, c'mon. Think._

“Ivy,” he blurts out, shaking Dave’s hand.

Yikes. It’s been a while for that one.

When Klaus first left the Academy, he’d thrown himself directly into some... shady situations. It was on one such occasion that he was asked his name by someone he definitely didn’t need Googling him after the fact. 

He’d recalled the labels that Grace had stitched neatly into the collars of their uniforms. They’d all been marked by Roman numerals, per the classics-fetishist Reginald’s preference. 

He’d stuttered out the letters “I.V.”, assuming they’d sound like initials. They didn’t. But it sufficed.

Eventually, Ivy stuck. It became Klaus’s preferred pseudonym when he needed extra protection. Ivy was the one who met the especially-shifty dealers and every faceless hookup - typically those who paid. 

There are, in fact, a handful of baby boys who get named Ivy in the United States each year, peaking somewhere in the 1930’s. You could always point to some old-timey athlete or actor in a pinch. But Klaus couldn’t deny that he had fun with the gender aspect. The feminine idea of the name went _very_ well-appreciated - sometimes by himself, and sometimes by his partner. He knew the deal.

Thankfully, old-fashioned Dave doesn’t bat an eye. “Nice to meet you, Ivy.”

And Klaus feels _whiplash_ , hearing a relic of his lonely past on Dave’s tongue. 

“What business you on?” He asks next, as they start down the street.

“I’m afraid it’s confidential,” Klaus quickly answers. “NDA and all.”

He isn’t a thousand percent sure if they still call it an NDA in the 60’s. Or what kinds of businesses they actually apply to. He just remembers Allison talking about them in reference to an upcoming movie one time.

“Secret mission. Okay, I gotcha,” Dave says. “Secret mission that requires a zinc-plated corner brace.”

“Yeah,” Klaus answers. 

_Shit, too vague of an order. Add some detail._

“Three, actually.”

“Three corner braces,” Dave repeats. “Y’know, most of the time, they come in sets of two or four.”

“Yeah, well… Very particular mission.”

“Bet you I can guess what your project is,” Dave proposes with a point. “Spent a lot of time working that hardware store as a kid. Helped people with a lot of weird stuff.”

“Sure,” Klaus says ambivalently - and cruelly, without a correct answer in mind. “Hit me.”

Dave takes the challenge very scientifically, starting with the basics and working his way up to abstract art projects. Shelves. Armchair refurb. Irregular polygon coffee table. Metal sculpture of Lyndon B. Johnson. Klaus rejects each guess with a little more snark. 

At some point (possibly to distract from the fact he’s losing his own bet, Klaus considers) Dave stops with the game and wanders onto a hardware-related tangent. Klaus allows it and follows with a few questions.

“But I don’t really work there anymore, I was just picking up a couple shifts for the holiday season. Favor to the manager. I actually moved out to the other side of town, all the way down...”

They go back and forth down the snow-slick pavement. Klaus will ask something, Dave will ramble, Dave will ask something, Klaus will joke, Dave will counter, on and on for the next few blocks. 

It’s stupid, how easily they click into a rhythm. Dave might be finding it weird. Klaus isn’t terrific at reading into the Civilian Version of him quite yet. But Klaus just finds it comforting. It’s like they still know each other, on some level, even if they don’t.

They arrive at the hardware store, and before Klaus can think of a gracious parting word, Dave is opening the glass door, accompanied by the shouting of the jingle bells attached to the handle. He enters the shop and props the door open behind him. “You comin’?”

**…**

**…**

**…**

Unsurprisingly, Dave’s right. The braces only come in sets of two or four. Klaus ends up buying the four-pack and tossing it into the pocket of his coat. 

“You know where you’re going?” Dave asks as they leave the store.

Klaus nods uneasily, even though he doesn’t. “Yeah. All good.” 

He doesn’t need Dave to catch him aimlessly wandering for an empty alley. He spots a cafe with a striped awning across the way. Maybe a decent place to hide. He gestures to it. “I’m just gonna grab a cup of coffee and be on my way.” 

“Oh, if you go to that place, get the hot cocoa sometime,” Dave says. “Trust me. They only have it seasonally. It’s the real deal.”

Klaus fights back a smirk at the memory that Dave never got into coffee. Funny to see that didn’t change. “Oh yeah? Thanks.” 

Klaus is sure he's in the process of saying goodbye.

But then he realizes that, even within this street performance of New-In-Town Ivy, this is too abrupt. Dave has been so patient. Just like he’s always been.

“Actually, wait,” Klaus starts again. “Really. Thank you. For walking me here, and for…”

_Being my first ally in a wartorn country. Catching me up on basic training. Holding my hand through the nights that the ghosts wouldn’t shut the hell up. Saving my ass from tripping on a landmine back in January._

“Let me get you a cup,” Klaus proposes. “To make up for it.”

Dave smiles and shakes his head. “That’s very kind, but I can’t…”

Klaus raises an eyebrow. “What, you got somewhere to be?”

Dave tilts his head. Trapped, but not unhappy about it. 

“...Okay, smartass,” he says, earning a cheeky grin from Klaus. 

...

...

...

The cafe is crowded with folks hiding from the cold, so they get a pair of red cardboard cups to go. There’s a little stretch of park around the corner, and Dave heads over to a metal bench on its edge. Klaus follows without question.

“Gotta be rough, traveling for work around the holidays,” Dave guesses as they sit.

“No, no,” Klaus says. “It’s all the same to me.” He asks the next question lightly, to see if the situation has gotten any better or worse. “You spend it with your family?” 

“Yep,” Dave sighs. “This week has put me through the _wringer_. We used to be real close, but ever since I...” he pauses with a gesture, considering how to summarize it. “...y’know, went back to school, and got my own place... we’re not really in touch that often. It’s tense, to say the least.”

Ah. It’s gotten worse. But Dave doesn’t seem to take it too personally.

“I feel you, man, I really do,” Klaus replies. “My family’s never been big on holidays anyway. Or traditions. Or joy.” This earns a sympathetic laugh from Dave. “It feels like we only see each other at... I don’t know. The really big stuff. My sister’s wedding, my dad’s funeral...”

“Damn. Sorry for your loss.”

“Quite alright,” Klaus assures him. He nearly shivers at the realization that Reginald could still be here, in 1960’s Dallas. “Sometimes it feels like the old coot’s still hanging around.”

The sun is in its late stages of setting now, casting an orange and pink glow over the skyline. A light flurry has picked up, slowly dusting Dave’s curls in white. When he sees a single snowflake drop onto the tip of Dave’s nose, Klaus feels so endeared and mushy that he can feel his past self vomiting.

There might be a few moments when conversation falls and it feels alright to call it a night. A lot of those times, Klaus hurries to catch it. At varying levels of awareness, he just wants this to last a little bit longer. But some of those times, the beat of silence is easy and passes on its own. Dave has always been less afraid of it than Klaus is. And it eventually becomes clear that he’s not in any rush to wrap this up either. 

He eventually comes around to talking about the military. Klaus is relieved, having no idea how to breach the topic himself. 

“...But when my buddy Robbins came back, I don’t know. He seemed so much more rigid.”

“Did you ever serve?” Klaus asks.

Dave looks into him for a second, then continues, apparently assessing that Klaus is Safe to tell this to. 

Klaus has always loved knowing he’s Safe to him. Even when they were just starting out as friends. 

“I was gonna,” Dave says. He looks down at the snowflakes collecting on his boots. “But, well, I flipped at the last second.”

Klaus fights not to cough on his sip of cocoa. He fails. “You did?”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Dave chuckles at his response. “Wasn’t even drafted. I was so ready to enlist. Such an idealistic kid. I was gonna get the hell out of this city and make everyone proud, for once.” He scoffs. “But honestly, on the inside, I was chickenshit.”

“Can’t blame you,” Klaus mumbles.

“And then... I got this sign. It was crazy, but there was this guy...”

Klaus stiffens. Dave doesn’t notice.

“...He was some kinda future-seer.” He shakes his head. “Probably a lunatic, really. But when I talked to him, it was like... he gave me permission to not want to go. I realized I was allowed to want something else out of life.”

It’s a losing battle for Klaus to appear neutral on the topic. 

But he did it. Holy shit. He really actually did it. 

It wasn’t that he convinced him with argument and evidence and grim prophecy. Maybe that happened, too. But it was mainly that he opened Dave’s mind up to doubt. Between Ben and Dave, Five’s paranoid rantings about the butterfly effect and unexpected outcomes have been proven valid twice in one day, in the most haunting and hopeful ways possible.

And Klaus can’t help but wonder if, by the domino effect of staying in the states, there are any other epiphanies Dave ended up having earlier this time around. Though he’s been getting the feeling that there are.

“So,” Dave continues, “Right before I was supposed to ship out, I went alone and requested a retraction. I fell off the map for a few days to dodge some of my family’s fury. They’re still pissed, no question about it,” he says with a bitter grin. “That’s... actually most of why we don’t talk. But they’ll get over it someday.” 

“Thank God for lunatics,” Klaus mindlessly comments. 

“What about you?” Dave asks. “You ever gonna serve?”

A dry snicker escapes Klaus, forming a little cloud in the air. This improv exercise is getting pretty ridiculous.

“Yeah, no, I did for a little while, but…” Klaus shrugs in dismissal. “... I don’t think Uncle Sam really gives a shit about guys like me.” 

He realizes it’s a pretty direct thing to say. But to hell with it. Might as well stab the elephant in the room with a hunting knife.

And Dave just hears it, and he nods a little.

“Seems like Uncle Sam only gives a shit about one very particular kind of guy, huh?” He says.

“Picky-picky,” Klaus weakly agrees.

It falls a tad too silent as Dave fixes his eyes on a dilapidated snowman a stone’s throw away, sipping down the last of his cocoa.

Then, taking in a decisive breath, he turns back to Klaus. “You want to go get a drink?”

Klaus dumbly holds up his empty cup. “We already...?”

“I mean, you could get another cocoa if you want,” Dave says, “but I was thinking of something a little stronger.”

 _Oh._ Klaus could slap himself.

“Right,” Klaus answers clumsily. “Yeah, got you, fine, sure.”

“You don’t have to...”

Klaus gathers himself. “No, it’s great, why not?” And Jesus. Now he needs it. It’ll probably make him way less tense about all this. “You’ve been a decent enough tour guide so far. You happen to know the best bar in Dallas, too?” 

...

...

...

The best spot in Dallas is apparently in Dave’s neighborhood (an admittedly biased nomination), a brief bus ride away. When they arrive, the sky has turned black with evening. Inside, each pillar is wrapped in a mile of lazily-blinking lights. Live jazz-swung carols fill the air. They get two seats at the end of the bar, overlooking the band, the modest dance floor, and a forest of cheap tinsel Christmas trees adorning each table and corner of the room. 

Dave gave a pretty solid recommendation. The place feels homey right away, but it’s far more tasteful than most of the bars Klaus used to hang around. They order a bit of food and a drink each, which eventually turns to two drinks, three, four, as the night goes on. It’s swapping stories and people-watching and shitty mumble-singing along to whatever the band is playing onstage. Klaus should know he’s out of it when he almost talks himself into requesting “Last Christmas”. 

He’s mid-gesture, trying to explain some issue he has with the classic holiday movies, when Dave reaches out and takes his hand.

(Dave always tends to get touchy when he drinks, Klaus recalls. It’s not so much that he had forgotten - it’s just that it’s becoming increasingly more and more difficult to compare and contrast the soldier who loved him with this man who stayed behind.)

He brings it down and close to himself, quite literally reading the palm. It’s only then that Klaus realizes this is the first time he’s had his gloves off all day. 

“I’ve seen this before,” Dave says, squinting. “Hello and Good bye, right? Like that spiritual group? They rolled through here a couple years back.”

Klaus sheepishly holds up GOOD BYE, as if to say, _‘Guilty as charged!’_

“I wasn’t... I got it done ironically,” Klaus says. “Like, to satirize institutional religion.” He mocks an embarrassed huff and eyeroll. “College.” 

He’s pretty sure Dave is _just_ inebriated enough to accept that as the truth. “Right on.”

Klaus notices the band has shifted to a tune that’s more frantic and fun. He recognizes the melody through the thick, syncopated piano chords.

_“He’ll make your December the one you’ll remember,_

_The best and the merriest you ever did have…”_

He barely thinks before taking Dave’s hands and standing up. 

“We should dance.”

“What?” Dave tugs back. “No, no, no. Sit down.”

Klaus pulls a little more and makes a solid attempt at puppy eyes. “Come onnnnn.”

“You don’t want to see it,” Dave promises. “I’m really bad.”

Klaus laughs airily. He knows that. “Which is exactly why I want to see it.”

“ _Ivy_.”

Klaus throws his hands down. “Fine. I’ll go alone.” 

Dave is about to protest, but Klaus is already backing up to the outer edge of the dance floor with a loose approximation of a Charleston. Dave snorts and covers his mouth. 

There are enough people gathered that Klaus gets barely a judgemental side glance, dancing by himself. He’s sure to keep an eye on Dave, pestering him to join with every other slide and twist. And when Dave’s done laughing, he just watches with this warm, bright gaze. Klaus wants to be looked at that way until the day he dies.

He considers it a victory when Dave finishes his drink in one swig and comes down to the floor.

“I’m causing too much of a scene, am I?” Klaus asks as Dave reluctantly falls into the rhythm.

“You _are_ the scene,” He replies. Klaus isn’t really sure if it’s an insult or compliment or both.

The music picks up, horns blaring. There’s a moment when Dave slips out of his generic jive and attempts a real step or two. It’s just as clumsy as Klaus remembers. “It’s not bad,” he gasps between giggles. “It’s awful. Do it again.”

Then there’s a moment when the saxophone soars, and Klaus raises his hands above his head as he sways, floating blindly on the melody. 

He feels a hand smooth onto his waist. 

“Oh, hi there,” Dave murmurs.

Klaus finds him gently holding the bottom of his shirt, which had ridden up with his raised arms, exposing his tattoo. Dave’s thumb brushes lightly against the middle tier of the black ink temple.

“What’s this say?” He asks, scanning the characters with a curious grin.

“N-nothing important,” Klaus assures him. 

Dave skeptically shakes his head. “Must be something very special to take up so much real estate.” 

“Must be,” Klaus mutters absently, scooping Dave’s hand up and away from his side. He follows through on the motion, looping up and twirling Dave around as if he were a ballroom dancer. Klaus had always doubted those lessons would come in handy, but here we are. Dave drops his thought, falling out of the turn with a laugh and being pulled back in. 

Klaus’s muscle memory takes over, refitting his hand in Dave’s and setting the other on his waist. In his unbalanced state, he simply expects Dave to follow along. But his heart still skips a beat when he feels a hand settle on his shoulder. 

And it’s all for fun. Of course. Klaus is performing another exercise in irony. And Dave is playing along on their little gag. The way they’re dancing is just a dumb joke that’s going to grow old in a minute, and then they’ll be back at their barstools, drinking whiskey and talking about football and trucks and beautiful women for the rest of the night.

It should be psychologically nauseating, dancing with and falling head-over-heels for Dave-Not-From-Vietnam as he asks him about Dave-From-Vietnam. But cognitive dissonance has always been Klaus’s favorite song.

He doesn’t fully register the scattered applause as the band transitions into a new piece. All he notices is the soothing bass and the elegant plinking of piano and the smoother rhythm of their steps and the lovely, fuzzy feeling of Dave’s attention on him. The song title “Moonlight in Vermont” drifts faintly through his head.

Then, from over Dave’s shoulder, he catches the eye of a stranger staring. Then another, whispering some snarky comment to a friend.

“Uh.” He starts to pull away. “Dave.”

Dave slips back into reality at the sound of his voice. They separate. Dave doesn’t look at him right away. “Sorry.”

They wordlessly elect to return to their seats. Back at the bar, Klaus starts jabbering with some bland observations he made about the band, just to fill the air. It’s such a scattered setlist, and they’re really dragging out each song for all the extra verses, and that drummer has got to be _at least_ 90, how the hell did he not drop dead during that big solo earlier? 

Eventually, Dave gets back onto his page. At some point he says, “That ‘White Christmas’ they did, the arrangement reminded me of this one song I loved when I was younger...”

“Was it a Gene Pitney?”

Dave perks up. “Yeah, actually. Wow. You heard it too?”

 _Shit._ It was a thoughtless guess based on a piece of forbidden information. Klaus wouldn’t know Gene Pitney if he poisoned his father. He hadn’t been able to find any of his albums in his travels with the Children, and he didn’t really have time to do a Spotify search before then, while alternating between borderline-suicidal ideation and being an unwilling participant in apocalypse aversion.

“Just a lucky guess. Seems like something you’d like.” Klaus explains, too casually. “I’ve really been wanting to check him out. I’ve just never seen his records in stores.”

Dave tilts his head in consideration. “I mean… I have ‘em at my apartment. I could play you the essentials some time, catch you right up.”

“No time like the present,” Klaus hazards.

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Dave warns.

“Well, damn me,” Klaus says, already flagging the bartender to pay out. “Am I just supposed to go the rest of my life without listening to the Rockville Rocket himself?”

…

…

...

They both kinda know the records are bullshit. 

It’s not that the records aren’t real and tangible and actually located at Dave’s apartment - they are. But they’re also complete and utter bullshit.

Klaus is honestly surprised they made it all the way to the front step on foot, considering the amount of damage they did at the bar. The door has been closed behind them for about six seconds when they go quiet, laughter from the joke two blocks back finally petering out. Klaus sets his briefcase on a coffee table and gets a quick glance around the living room - slightly cluttered but functional.

After a breath, he finds Dave carefully studying his expression as if it were a piece of modern art. 

He can practically feel it when Dave’s gaze flits down to his lips, then back to his eyes, in a silent request for permission. 

Sober Klaus might be mature enough to understand how awful of an idea this is. Or he might not. Doesn’t he have a beating heart? Would he really have the strength to refuse, with the way Dave’s looking at him?

Well, right now, Klaus is tipsy, existentially exhausted, and so absurdly in love.

He takes Dave’s jaw in his hands and kisses him, rushed and passionate. Dave stumbles back in surprise, letting himself be pinned against the wall. He then returns Klaus’s fervor, hands flying up to grip his waist. Within the minute, Klaus vaguely hears the Thud of his own coat hitting the hardwood floor.

...

...

...

Klaus shouldn’t be so happy to realize he’s woken up in Dave’s bed. 

Granted, Klaus has had a funny relationship with the word “should” lately. He probably shouldn’t have left his family, shouldn’t have come back to 1968, and shouldn’t have stayed for that cup of hot chocolate.

But he wakes up with _Dave_. Not in some cot in a tent on the other side of the globe, and not in some dingy hotel room. He’s in Dave’s actual bed, in Dave’s adorable apartment, staring at Dave’s peacefully sleeping face. 

And yeah, a little hungover, but he’s been through much worse.

His memory starts to flood back. The first thing that strikes him is all that _confidence_ that was absent from their first time in Vietnam. _David Joseph Katz, what the hell have you been up to for the last five years?_

It almost felt like cheating, already knowing exactly how Dave liked to be kissed and touched. But sometimes, cheaters win. And hearing his breathless reactions was a prize better than solid gold.

Dave wasn’t nearly as talkative as he was those times they were on leave in Saigon. But Christ, those few “darlin’”s and “baby”s... And even that pesky pseudonym...

_“Ivy.”_

Klaus has heard the name tumble out of the mouths of plenty of people. As a demand, as a warning, as a whimper, all of that. Just a random blank-filler in the Mad Libs of his partners’ rambling sexual monologues. 

But until now, he has never heard it said with such affection. He’s never heard it said with such reverence.

Never in his life has he heard it said so much like a _goddamn prayer._

He knows it’s crazy, because they’ve just met, but he thinks Dave might be a little bit in love with Ivy. It makes him wonder if Dave-From-Vietnam was in love with Klaus from day one, too. Or if he would’ve been, if he had let himself. 

It might be his shifting in the sheets that wakes Dave up. He makes a little sound as his eyes open, just the tiniest bit. Klaus’s pulse rushes.

“Hi,” Klaus whispers. 

Dave’s eyes eventually adjust and find Klaus’s. “Hey,” he whispers back. A sleepy smile tugs at his face. “Merry Christmas, Ivy.”

Klaus hums dreamily. “Merry Christmas, Davey.”

The room is still pretty dim from the small amount of light dripping in through the window, but he thinks he catches a shade of red splash across Dave’s cheeks.

“Sun’s up,” Dave murmurs. “I can get you to the bus stop if you’ve got to run.”

Right. In this universe, this is essentially a glorified one-night stand.

And that should be fine. This is a Dave who’s done this before. Klaus should get dressed and vanish as quickly as he appeared. Dave already expects as much, even offering an easy out and a walk to the bus, like a true gentleman. This should be simple. But it’s not. 

And besides, Klaus doesn’t miss the weight Dave puts into that “if”.

“I...” Klaus squeezes his eyes shut as he fumbles for his response. “...I don’t.” 

Dave’s expression shifts. Klaus has trouble reading the glint in his eyes. Maybe just amusement at all the conviction in Klaus’s response. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” Klaus repeats, intelligently. Because he doesn’t really know what comes after that. All he knows is, right now, he doesn’t want to do anything but keep laying here with Dave.

Dave nods. “Okay,” he says - evidently, perfectly fine with that answer. 

After a beat, he seems to hear Klaus’s body crying out for warmth, because he timidly reaches to loop an arm over his torso.

“Um. Can I...?”

“Yes, yeah,” Klaus answers, a little too eagerly. He gently rolls to face the wall and slides close to Dave, letting him drape an arm around him. It’s nearly automatic, how Klaus moves to hold Dave’s arm close, their fingers intertwining at his chest. He’s so grateful Dave doesn’t pull away.

He stares out the sliver of window uncovered by the curtain. Snow drifts through the air, dropping onto fresh piles on the grass outside. 

“So, last night wasn’t too terrible?” Dave asks. It’s right behind Klaus’s ear, in a way that just feels safe. 

“No.” His lips curl into a tired but overwhelmingly fond smile. “Not in the slightest.”

Dave gives a silent chuckle. Klaus feels the puff of air against his back. “Then you wanna tell me what’s going on in your head?”

Klaus is highly unprepared to unpack all the buzzing in his brain. Even to himself. He would much prefer to muffle it out with the sound of Dave’s voice, close and crumbly with the morning, and the softness of his body, holding him so sweetly. 

“Secret,” he mumbles, sort of teasingly. 

“Another one, huh?” Dave remarks. 

Klaus feels him press a gentle kiss against his shoulder. It sends a flutter through his chest. 

“You want to hear _my_ little secret, Ivy?” Dave asks, before brushing his lips onto his skin once more. 

“Yeah.”

“I really like you.”

Klaus’s heart aches. He’s heard this from Dave before, long ago, but he still feels like melting on the spot. 

_I love you._

_I love you so much, you asshole. I’ve been dying to see you for three years, since the day you died in my arms, you prick. I love every single version of you that exists throughout the universe. I love you so much I’d bend the rules and regulations of the timespace continuum, time and time and time and time again, to bring you back to life. I love you so much I let you drag me to the front lines of a war. I love you so much I suffered through withdrawal while the literal world was collapsing around me just for the chance you’d come kiss me goodbye._

But Ivy has one superpower, and it’s this. Burying it all when needed.

“I really like you too,” He says instead.

“I’m glad,” Dave mumbles. Klaus can feel his smile against his skin.

But this is what kills him. They could’ve had this. The sleepy smiles. The slow mornings. The messy apartment.

If stupid Uncle Brian hadn’t been such a massive dick, and if Dave had never signed up for that stupid war, and if Hazel and Cha Cha’s stupid briefcase had landed him here in Texas, he could’ve spent ten months with this beautiful person without their life in danger every goddamn day. Maybe not ten months. Maybe the rest of his life.

And part of him wonders if he can still have this. 

But he can’t. It wouldn’t be right. 

Would it?

Klaus’s thoughts go completely blank when Dave’s lips connect with his neck. The bastard.

“Hey, you wanna...” Klaus‘s words dissolve into a sigh. His mind is hazy from the onslaught of affection. “You wanna go somewhere, in a bit? Get some breakfast?”

Dave hums affirmatively with a kiss on his cheek. “Sounds good to me, darlin’.”

…

…

…

Klaus feels an unspoken agreement in the air. They’ll talk about the real stuff later. Probably after the outing, and probably before Dave’s shift at the store and Klaus’s hastily-improvised “meeting downtown”. But later.

Right when they’re about to leave the apartment, the phone rings. Dave’s manager is on the line. Dave tells Klaus to go ahead and get a table at the diner down the street, preferably the one by the front window. This’ll take a while. 

After a few minutes’ wait out front, rubbing his hands in the cold breeze, he gets in. The waitress who takes him to the front booth is brunette and bubbly. Colorfully painted and clean, this place is as cozy and comforting as the bar the night before. As the waitress walks away and he settles into his seat, Klaus thinks Dave should seriously consider a career as a Dallas travel advisor. Or restaurant critic.

Klaus nearly goes into cardiac arrest when there’s a small blue explosion in the seat across from him.

Five appears on the other side of the table, wearing the stern expression of a disappointed father. He gracelessly drops a briefcase onto the table.

“There you are,” he grumbles. “I’ve been looking all over this damn city for you.”

Klaus is still heaving from the startlement. “Christ, Five.” When he catches his breath, he holds up a disgruntled pair of jazz hands. “Ta da. Found me.” 

“Jesus, Klaus. You can’t just go running off like that!”

“How the hell did you know where I went?”

Five sighs and fishes into his pocket. He pulls out Klaus’s dog tags. 

He looks to the side, with about all the patience that he’s able to muster these days. The kind of expression that says _‘Though I lack the capacity to offer you a hug, I've recently come to understand that you’ve gone through your own share of traumatic shit’._

“Vanya was worried when you didn’t come out of the bathroom,” he explains evenly. “These popped up in the tub, after Luther knocked the door in. Allison saw them and figured you’d gone to sixty-eight. All the briefcases are still registered with the Commission, so Diego went back and asked Herb to take a look at any departures for the year. He found the date and location, and _I_ needed to see you back at our home base _myself_.” 

Klaus takes the tags. He feels simultaneously appreciative and furious at his entire family for their concern. 

“Great job, not losing it,” Five compliments, noticing Klaus’s briefcase next to him on the seat. “Were the ‘Space’ dials stuck at the Dallas coordinates from its previous destination?”

The Space dials. Hidden in that secret panel. That’s what he missed. 

“Eh, well, it worked out.”. 

“Good.” Five nods shortly. “Let’s go.”

“What? No way. Not right now.”

“Yes, right now.” Five pushes. “We’re going to find a way back to our home timeline. We need you over there.”

“Maybe I’m _done_ with people needing me, okay?” Klays says. “With the apocalypse, with Ben, with the Children…” He waves it all away. “Maybe I just want things to be nice. And I can just disappear again. You all seemed plenty fine with it before.”

Five’s eyes harden. “We are not leaving you behind in this timeline. We need the full force of the Academy. And we also want our _brother_ with us.” 

Honestly, Klaus isn’t sure how he can argue with that. He didn’t really intend to abandon his family. But he still can’t leave this daydream. Not yet.

“That’s touching, Five, really, I’m already weepy. But—”

“I know he means a lot to you.”

Klaus flinches at the directness. 

Five looks earnest enough - if not slightly pained by the process of speaking emotionally. “I get it,” he goes on. “You get this power in your hands, and you think you have it all set. Limitless control. Endless second chances.” He gestures plainly. “But. You’ve been here a while. Surely you know this isn’t quite right.”

Klaus crosses his arms as he settles into defeat. He does know. It wouldn’t be fair to Dave, to walk him through the next day or week or month on a string of lies. It’d almost be worse to come clean, and try to explain all the meddling he’s already done in his life. He’s known it isn’t the same. But the fantasy is still _so pretty_ from here.

He’s going to feel so, so sorry to Dave if he ditches now, but he knows he’ll feel worse the longer he stays. 

“We’re gonna fix everything. For real, this time,” Five says. “We’ll get home, and the guy who actually knew you is still gonna be there. Maybe dead, maybe alive, and maybe you can still save him, but you’ll see him again, one way or another. I don’t doubt it.”

“So what can I get started for you fellas?”

Klaus looks up at the chipper waitress who’s just arrived at their table. 

“Hi. Yeah. Can we…?” Klaus trails off. He glances at Five. 

Five gives him a very pointed stare back. _Please._

“Can we just get a hot cocoa?” Klaus asks. He gestures patronizingly to his brother. “For the kid. He’s shy.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart!” She bends to Five’s level. “It’s a-okay, honey. The hot cocoa’s my favorite, too.”

Five shoots Klaus a glare.

“I know, I know!” Klaus keeps going, hamming it up in the role of this vague sensitive Dad/Uncle figure. “It’s wonderful. I told him, ‘It’s Christmas, Johnny. We can go anywhere you want.’ But he just goes nuts for this place.”

The waitress holds her heart. “How sweet.” She ruffles Five’s hair and leans in for a secret. “I’ll see if I can sneak you a few extra marshmallows. How’s that?”

“Great,” Five chokes out through his teeth. “Thank you.” 

As soon as the waitress floats off once more, he goes straight to his reflection in the window to fix his hair. “I might deserve that,” he mumbles. “Are we good?”

Klaus takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, almost.”

…

…

…

Dave enters the diner with an apology on his lips, only to find the front booth empty. A ceramic cup of hot cocoa sits in the center of the table. 

He slides into the seat and finds a metal corner brace leaning on the side of the saucer. There’s a handwritten note on the napkin underneath it.

_Business called. Just needed the three._

And at the bottom, dotted with a little black heart, is a signature. 

_-ivy_

  
  



End file.
